


my heart to subdivide

by possibilityleft



Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: Family Feels, Found Family, Gen, Holidays, Missing Scene, Multi, Slice of Life, Stories About Healing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:02:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27056122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/possibilityleft/pseuds/possibilityleft
Summary: 3 Thanksgivings that Joan celebrated with her family.
Relationships: Joan Watson (Elementary) & Arthur Watson, Joan Watson (Elementary) & Kitty Winter, Marcus Bell & Joan Watson (Elementary), Marcus Bell/Chantal Milner, Sherlock Holmes & Joan Watson (Elementary)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 33
Collections: Little Black Dress Flash 2020





	my heart to subdivide

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FictionPenned](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FictionPenned/gifts).



> There are a bunch of spoilers in here for 07x13 Their Last Bow.

**1.**

The year that Joan adopted Arthur, she spent half of Thanksgiving Day on the phone with Kitty. This was unintentional; she'd definitely meant to pack the baby up and bring him over to her parents' house, but he had terrible colic and she'd barely slept the night before. As soon as she'd hung up with her mother, the phone rang and she'd answered it automatically, to find that it was Kitty.

They'd been talking almost every day since Arthur had arrived. Joan could have called her mom for help, of course, but her mother acted like she knew everything about raising kids, and Joan got tired of it quickly. Kitty was -- strangely enough -- her mom friend now, eager to hear about every tiny detail of feeding times and the little sighs that Arthur made when he was tired but not yet asleep.

After hours of crying, it seemed like he might give in and finally rest. Kitty made soothing noises at the baby through the phone, which made Joan smile.

"Be a good boy for Auntie Kitty, hmm?" she said, and Joan clutched at the phone like a lifeline.

*

**2.**

The second year, Joan's parents were renewing their vows in Hawaii over the holiday weekend, and when Marcus heard, he invited Joan immediately to his family's house for Thanksgiving. She tried to beg off politely but he insisted, and in the end she was glad that she came. When she knocked, trying to hold Arthur on one hip and a nice pecan pie in the other, Marcus opened the door, grabbed the pie, and then wrapped the two of them in a deep hug. Arthur babbled happily.

"You remembered my favorite," Marcus said, and he shut the door behind them. His home was brightly lit, warm and cheerful, and Chantal leaned out of the kitchen, a bowl in one hand, stirring furiously. She was seven months pregnant, every bit as cheery as Marcus was calm. They complimented each other well.

"Joan!" she said. "Glad you could make it!"

Joan set Arthur down and got him settled with some toys around the coffee table, which had already been carefully baby-proofed, a fact that warmed Joan's heart. Andre waved at her awkwardly from a corner of the living room. She smiled at him. Oren was with his wife's family this year for the holiday, but she made a note to call her brother later and check in.

She ate too much at dinner, watching Arthur play happily with his mashed potatoes and joking with the family. Afterwards, she teamed up with Marcus to kick his wife out of the kitchen and helped him do the dishes. He washed, she dried.

"I was thinking," he said to her, his sleeves rolled up, focused on the casserole pan, "about naming him Sherlock."

He glanced over at her to see her reaction, a smile gleaming in his eye. Joan shoved him in an exaggerated manner.

"Don't you dare," she said. Of course she worried about where Sherlock was -- it'd been almost a year since she'd heard from him -- but he wasn't dead. She was sure he was in Prague or London or somewhere else. Maybe somewhere warm, she liked to think. It was possible that he'd met with foul play somewhere, goodness knew he invited it, but it was more likely that he'd gotten caught up on a case and forgotten his social obligations.

That's what she wanted to think today, anyway.

Chantal yelled from the living room, "Are you teasing Joan again, Marcus? There's zero chance we're naming our baby after that crazy detective!" 

A few months ago, perhaps, it would have been hard to laugh, but she let herself now. She could hear Arthur laughing from the living room too, not knowing why, but wanting to join in, and she put down the towel and went in to pick him up and hold him tight for a moment, to smell the still baby smell of his hair. Chantal and Andre were playing cards and Marcus was complaining but not seriously that she had abandoned him to a dish mountain, and she was the happiest she'd been in ages, among her family.

*

**3.**

The year that Sherlock came back she insisted that he join them for Watson family Thanksgiving. He entertained Oren's daughter with sleight of hand and told the family carefully redacted versions of his travels across the "Continent" as he said it. It was quite the performance, a giddy Holmes that made Joan realize how much he must have missed them all.

Arthur was tired from running around with his cousin and all of the attention, and Joan was too. They went to bed early, and she let Arthur climb up in bed beside her for a story, and then she read on her Kindle while he slept easily beside her.

Gone were the days when Sherlock would storm into her room, shouting about a theory -- he'd adapted to Arthur's schedule so easily it made her the slightest bit resentful that he hadn't bothered to do it for her all those years. He appeared in the crack of her slightly-open door, eyes wide with some excitement, and when she noticed him she motioned him in. He moved silently and eased himself into place beside her bed, handing her his phone.

'A case!' he mouthed. The message on his phone was from Bell, who reported that beat officers had found charred remains nearby if they had time to take a look; they weren't sure but it almost looked like the person had been electrocuted.

"Electrocution!" Sherlock said, his voice quiet but excited. "On a clear night in the middle of the street! It must be a murder."

It was the exact same enthusiasm he had managed to muster for her mother's yams and the thought made her smile.

"Let me call Rose," she said, "to see if she's available," but Sherlock had already turned back to the door. He paused and twisted his head around to look at her and Arthur.

"Shall I fill you in tomorrow morning?" he said, and Joan looked up from her phone. He seemed to be having one of his bouts of tenderness, which had come and gone apace since he returned and she started chemo. She was still working for now, with a reduced schedule, and she'd figured they'd have something come up over the long weekend, but she had to admit, the out was tempting. Even if she hadn't been sick, she would have been tired.

"Good night," Sherlock said, and when he left, he shut the door gently.

When she woke the next morning, she had 35 text messages from him, including several that included graphic photos of a charred body, but he hadn't called, even though he'd been up until at least four a.m. So that was progress.

She found herself smiling as she arranged care for Arthur, ready to be on the chase.


End file.
